


Draft 1 (final)

by Souhai_Eatery



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alexithymia, Cold, Depression, Honesty, Hurt, Insomnia, Loneliness, Other, The deceit shall persist the next time I wake up, Unfiltered, personal, relationship, unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23738476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Souhai_Eatery/pseuds/Souhai_Eatery
Summary: "Let's break up"...? No, that's not exactly what I want to say. Words like that cannot fully describe the depth of the issue, but it was enough to keep me awake.
Kudos: 1





	Draft 1 (final)

The bitter cold was what solely kept me company these days. Well, that and an unrestrained addiction and indulgence in Monster Hunter World. My eyes are stinging as I type this, but I honestly can't fall asleep. Probably due to the side effects of said indulgence.

I've been reading and re-reading many yuri stories these days. Some of them with utterly relatable despair, others with idealistic romance that felt blindingly desirable. Even when cynicism meant that such ideas were absolutely retarded. Yes, the R word I've always felt guilty to use. For societal reasons yes, but it was a reason I agreed with. Digressions.

It was a juxtaposition to the chill. It wasn't merely frost that lightly coated the corners of a window; it was a deep-seated desire for warmth. Another's warmth. It was difficult. I can't seem to breathe freely. I can't ever seem to relax on my own. I can't seem to detach myself from whatever seemed like it required my presence. Yes, that includes everyone I thought I cared about. It was merely a selfish desire to want to care, so that I may reap such rewards in return. Only the cold awaited when nothing of the sort happens. There were no obligations, but I wish there was. It never paid to be a kind person. Or was the cold simply too much for the transient little spark?

I no longer love you. I don't hate you. I merely stopped feeling for people beyond surface-level, primordial social programming. I don't know whether I was ever capable of it in the first place, not when it stemmed from a selfish desires; a human trait that evolved from the apes. I stopped remembering anything that had to do with how I had become today. Not even I could care enough about 'me' to keep myself 'alive'. I am dead, and only kept alive for the convenience of the world around me. I can't muster up the energy to reach out. Not when pain was ever present. The human body was programmed to experience joy from particular stimulus, and it thus produces endorphins in response. A natural chemical; A drug to convince the human race that it was necessary to blossom into the world today. An experience dead to me. An inconsistence that would tease on the occasion before leaving me in the cold again.

I know not why I'm crying. Tears always seemed to flow whenever I thought about myself and wondered why warmth was absent. The reasons never made themselves clear. No, they do sometimes, but they're ugly truths that no one would bother themselves with for another. I am merely a brittle straw against the wind. No one cared to look twice. It would merely wither and disintegrate when the time comes. When would it be my turn? Longevity is a curse, and I'm only 23. Ancestors from certain eras would have brightly extinguish their lives naturally. The modern ecosystem forbids so. A celebrated, artificial extension to the human lifespan. I do not enjoy it. I feel over 90 and I'm tired. Truly tired of the cold.

It almost seemed like I recalled my writing style from days of yore. When I never doubted reasons for occurrences. When I hadn't began lying to myself. Even now, somewhere within me is attempting to perish the long-awaited lucidity. It feared to hurt others, thus spinning lies for myself. That I was being dramatic. I was being mean. That I did not believe in what little honestly I had left to myself. It may be yet another selfish desire that will always backfire on itself. Personal wishes that, try as may be to demand one's or the masses' kindness, will never be truly fulfilled. The numbing pain settled much too deeply.


End file.
